Treasure Island

Jonathan ROBIN

(22 September / London)

Poetic Inspiration


Poetic inspiration must not tarry,
dry up, discouraged, over-analyse.
Expectations entertained help carry
message deep to conquer Time which flies.
There is no cause to dam perceptions, parry
questions put, those jealousy implies
to force reaction where response should marry
all to all, no need to temporize.
Refute temptation, motives mercenary,
yet neither 'look too good, nor talk too wise.'

Before vague interferences the mind
distorts, today's perceptions twists, heart tries
to focus clearly, insight redefined
and shares impressions' pulse which never dies
while magic taps into soul's spring to bind
into emotions each identifies
mundane events transformed, sense underlined
with Jericho's walls fallen, fear defies.
Transcending formal fetters much maligned
inspiration loves to improvise.

Through intuition lucky few may find
such inspiration free verse seldom tries
to pin down, qualify, or predefine.
All limits disappear as 'hows? and whys? '
loose, lose, restrictions, innate truth unwind.
Across dimensions musing spirit flies,
base substance shed, trite trammels left behind,
as gravity dissolves, no lows, no highs,
as meanings are decoded, intertwined
in ink which links 'I think', 'you feel', 'we rise'.

Exacting standards which sustain no blot,
must overcome doubts day to day supplies,
quit half-life half-light, cut the gordian knot
of form to swarm above what satisfies
secondary lot where those forgot,
who blindly rules obey, life lose. Surprise
lights eyes so seldom as progressive rot
sets in, skin deep or masked by dark disguise,
accepts trip's time-trap trigger, its bolt shot.
Yet inspiration no rules justifies.

Scorning hesitation's living lies,
which dew drops gathered from forget-me-not
ignore, or leave untouched, passed by with sighs,
informed awareness reaches out from what
seems insignificance, can recognize
energies innate, taste cold and hot,
to spurn self-satisfaction's compromise,
small slots refutes, for most the daily lot,
tendrils intangibles to realize
inner joy tease crosses, eyes may dot.

Submitted: Friday, June 21, 2013
Edited: Saturday, June 22, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

(1 October 2005 revised 4 April 2008)

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